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@soughtluck
MY LAPTOP IS FIXED
YOU COLLECT SCARS BECAUSE YOU WANT PROOF THAT YOU ARE PAYING FOR WHATEVER SINS YOU HAVE COMMITTED
soviireign·:
Always good to make new companions and connections. The Eternals might be his home and the core of his social circle, but there was also a necessity and a joy to expand one’s list of contacts beyond that. The moment he started their prior conversation, Siete knew he wasn’t the kind of guy he could just let go. You don’t see someone everyday who can appreciate his jokes!
(And it’s nice, not being abandoned in the middle of conversation for once. Not having to worry about tripping his own tongue.)
So naturally that gaze was met with an enthusiastic wink. No need for formalities here - he takes the wooden stool beside his new acquaintance, flapping his white coat to make sure it falls on his back and side. “Can’t a man ask for both? Good drink is best accompanied by good company, don’t you think?”
“And ’sides, I do like the cut of your jib. How long have you been doing some swashbuckling?”
perhaps it was the greeting, full of a carelessness that sets his shoulders into a lax slump, or maybe its the use of the word swashbuckling that has him choking on his drink, the last of the amber liquid swallowed down with a cough and a gasp for air, fist braced against his lips even as he smiles through it. shay turns away for a brief moment, the heat across his cheeks something he attributes to the liquor and ONLY the liquor. ( & he knows liam would say otherwise, an elbow to his ribs sorely missed. )
“ aye, for as long as i can remember. ” another smile, empty glass pushed forward for another, a nod for two gratefully accepted by the bartender. he’s the one who asked the other for a drink, he should be the one who pays for it, too. gentleman’s honour. hope the kid likes whiskey. “ though, not much of a pirate. captain cormac, at your service. you don’t get that title from swashbuckling, aye. ”
I have done bad things. I can’t take them back, and they are part of who I am. Most of the time, they seem like the only thing I am.
Veronica Roth, Insurgent (via weltenwellen)
Welcome to SpiraleFES 2020!
A word of warning first: this is not an event and does not count as event participation towards ranking up. This is merely a bunch of fun activities that persist throughout July and until the next event in August if you’d like to use them for threads.
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when he blinks, he swears the shadows he sees dancing in his eyes are mocking him, pointing their fingers & laughing as they whisper behind sharpened fangs how he was wrong. the notion sits heavy against his chest / shoulders / stomach, bile churning and throat working to keep it controlled. the happiness he felt again, the love of the world as it was ( climbing rooftops to feel the breeze, taking a hand in his and running freely ; a bird not caged, not as he was now ) no longer exists, the half of him from before dying in the ashes of lisbon. he sees that, now. he sees the man he’s become.
yet he lies in his bed, mind torn. he is still the kind man god made him, the same one that liam saved time & time again. he knows his feelings have not changed, yet the sudden dissonance sets him on edge — he is NOT the same shay cormac, mind haunted with the ghosts of people he’s never met. yet why did he take it upon himself? why are his hands stained red in a world where bloodtrails are just as common as the nooses by which they hang themselves from? ( and why must he have both? why must he carry death around his throat with the intent to set things right, only to tighten the noose and plunge his knife deeper into himself — into his FRIENDS ! )
stop. breathe.
mouth lined downwards in a frown, body sitting upwards on the mattress beneath him. he feels worn & exhausted, emptied of who he was / is. he’s made a mistake, and the glimpse of his templar robes finally put his nausea over the edge, body crumpling inwards as the urge to curl over rises. WHO IS SHAY CORMAC ? a good question with many answers, none of which are true. ‘ men breed violence. ’ / aye, he knows that now. sees the truth of that angel’s words. there will never be enough to sate the urges of man and the need for blood, the want & penchant for death. he has done everything he can to run from it — something he has been surrounded by since the age of sixteen! why? because of guilt? because of his god-fearing nature? who is he to be judged in heaven for the actions of a man not himself? achilles was a fool for what he did, but shay was the puppet that went along with it.
what would he do differently? ( say something, anything. he would ask why, ask with a pleading tongue of the who, what, when. because ignorance cost him his conscience, and now his conscience has cost him his life, his family. )
alone & isolated, he makes his decision. SHAY CORMAC IS NO TEMPLAR. he is not a man to be used again & again, is not so quick to lose himself due to his own folly and the ill likes of men such as achilles. he can be better, can do better, and the assassins he loves more than anything in this messed up world deserve a brother — a lover — who swears to uphold who they are.
who knows who he is.
he is shay cormac. neither assassin nor templar. and this is his second chance.
Old art upload 2: Shay from AC Rogue (September 2016)
hopeled
all those days, months, years spent running surely paid off. sure, she’s still relatively new to doing so on rooftops in a bustling city, but that didn’t matter too much in the long run. she’s no stranger to having to move fast and quick– whether that be to avoid an attack that came too close, to outrun something, or to make her way through a rubble filled battlefield. something she had done much of quite recently and muscle memory is a hell of a thing.
but rather than the hectic mess of battle and her mind having to be on alert, this was more of a …relaxing sort of adrenaline rush. one that left her smiling and quite enjoying the freedom it came with. and as he overtakes her, she simply laughs.
rather than answering right off the bat, she remains silent as she backs up a few steps. a deep breath in, heels pushing off the ground and a moment later she’s crossing the gap to join him. feet hit the rooftop, but rather than stopping, she practically skips the last few steps and ends it with a spin to face him with a grin to match his own.
“ Alright then. Tell me about this place and I’ll see how good of a route I can come up with. But you can’t complain if I pick a shortcut or two to take. “
eyes watch in rapt attention, captured & enamored with the way her legs carry her across the gap, gaze remaining locked as she skips / skids / turns. he does the same in slight, turning on his heel and feeling his hood fall against the push of wind now sweeping across his face. it tousles his already messy hair, the soft curls at the base bouncing / twirling in the silence, smile growing in the soft semi-respite. chest swells again, stomach flipping an an odd sense of — what ? he can’t name it, too caught up in the whirlwind of her character. ( the way she rises like the tide, hands braced against the waves like the side of a shore willing to weather the storm. she is bright & bold & full of an energy shay can only describe as scandalous — dangerous. )
he slows his walk on his approach towards her, hands at his side now useless. the lights / noises of the city below deafened & ignored ( truly a skill only a captain has, used to the concept of blocking the sounds of sea from one’s sleep ! ) the wind grows icy ; a lover’s caress gone cold. yet he stares & smiles, eyes warm like glowing embers ( like coming home to a cooked meal after months at sea. )
“ was hopin’ to find the coast of this place. take a nice, young lass to the water and share a drink or two, talkin’ ‘til the stars got tired o’us. or maybe the tallest buildin’ you could think of. but now i got a question, an’ i think we’re pretty safe to say it all the way up here. ” a deep breath, smile fading to something small / soft / timid. “ who taught you ? ”
kxrei·:
things the lord would turn away from? you stand in front of one
he shifts, gaze to the scene beyond the other. the streets while dangerous before were even more so now. emotions run free and rampant, endangering the lives of those affected or not. as a priest he held a duty not only to god, but to his children as well.
‘ nothing so grand i’m afraid. there are no ruins and the only temples you will find here are in the archimedes ward. ’
his reply was quick. there no temples or ruins nor magic or miracles at play here (though magic in various forms were abundant in this city). while seemingly ever quick to lend a hand, beyond helping the citizens of their anxiety and fear there would be no other way for them to help. it was only a hunch, but he felt that this was something that would pass in time.
‘ if you wish to help, then seek out those those in need. this phenomenon has struck fear into many, some not knowing who or where they are. ’
regardless if he were forgotten or not the suffering of many were at least acknowledged by one
something gnaws at the corner of his mind, sitting heavy on the tip of his tongue. the urge to help is overwhelming / overbearing, placing itself on cross-laden shoulders. words leap, wanting to ask ‘ why don’t you show me? ’ ready for another to lead his path forward. it’s so easy, looking to someone he only assumes knows more ( and he does, talking at ease of this place, of radiale, & willing to bring peace to those affected. ) yet shay stands, body braced, as something unknown slices across his skin like ice.
call it an instinct : this doesn’t feel right. ( psalm 146:3 put not your trust in princes, in a son of man, in whom there is no salvation. )
“ and would you not accompany me? ” testing / trying. this man reminds him of achilles in some ways, how his mentor would send him off on missions without so much as a hand wave and a goal to achieve. ( seek out the village & deliver the letter. return to the homestead after. ) and while his admiration towards achilles wavers at best depending on how agreeable the older man would be, his leadership would denote every action. he led & shay followed. this one feels like walking into a spiderweb. “ you know this place plenty better than myself. ”
junaou·:
Warrior’s instinct might tell him to be prepared at all times, but Arjuna sensed nothing particularly suspicious about him. “Be at ease, it would be my first time here.” This stranger was a fighter - this the Pandava was certain judging by his build and stride. But if there was any form of ill intent, it was well concealed. The archer found no reason to keep such a tight guard up. He, too, relaxed his shoulders. Crossed his arms, to prove there was no necessity to reach for his weapons at any moment’s notice.
“The view certainly is splendid. I should come back to watch the sunset later - that is, if you don’t mind.” Arjuna didn’t feel like he was trespassing any private place, but since this fellow rooftop-hopper has given him the courtesy, he might as well return such manners. A wistful smile danced upon his expression, thoughts turning into memories where he would stop and stare at the dazzling beauty of his travels. Even now, such vistas were capable of taking his breath away.
“You have mentioned the water - do you have to be a seafarer, by any chance?”
if you don’t mind. ha ! does this man think he owns any claim in this city? a lost soul set adrift amongst a wave-less sea, sundered by the frigid water-less tide. truly, shay has no urge to lay claim to anything here, wishing forlornly for a home he’s not sure he can get back to. liam, he knows, must be frantic with worry, and the notion makes chest clench and smile fall from lips, just for a moment.
lost in thought, the question of the water perks him up, dark eyes flashing in warmth ( a bonfire after a late-night ocean-side swim, laughter filling the skies & love filling their lungs. )
“ aye, that’s right. bit o’a sailor. learnt from my dad when i was a boy, boardin’ ships for long journeys ‘cross the seas & chartin’ maps. it’s the best life a man could ever want. ” sorrow laces the last few words, the urge for the water pulling at him, the loss of his father even more so. “ the smell of the sea, the early morning, and the sunset risin’ over the horizon ... you’d never find anything as beautiful. ” ( don’t get him started on waxing poetic, shay isn’t a man to do anything by halves. ) “ but that’s enough o’ me. what about you, stranger? you don’t seem the type to climb atop random buildings. not that you can’t, that’s for sure, but you’re definitely not ... well, me. ”
lockscreens - shay cormac
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you leave because you're certain of who you want to be.
okwahowl·:
was he supposed to be intimidated? was the chill wrought by a stranger’s tone meant to caution him away so that they might never come into conflict? ratonhnhaké:ton felt little for the other’s steeled words but a contempt befitting a guarded wolf, seeking not conversation but confrontation. he would not find it here, with another in his midst clearly lamenting his own troubles, but the manner of which he was addressed however furrowed his brow. maintaining his distance, the boy merely jerked his chin toward the solitary man at the building’s edge, answering in kind.
❝ —and why does it matter to you? ❞ he wanted only to get his bearings, but it would seem another had the same idea, and they too disdained unwanted company, nor had a taste for it in general. the words upon his tongue were needlessly sharpened, defensive, but he felt it necessary in this place, at least for now. he trusted few, fewer still in his new surroundings.
as he scrutinised the other, the city murmured below all the while— this was a far cry from the likes of boston.
@soughtluck· ➵ xprofeta ➵ rooksassassin ➵ edeneyed
perhaps it was the need to find the calm of the ocean when so far away, something about the breeze whipping across his face, loose hair flying as the city below thrives in the midst of its life, that brought him scaling across radiale’s towering architecture. it gives him satisfaction / peace, but the notion of having others, well ... shay is, in all truthfulness, a selfish man.
and he’s tired of listening to these two speak in shortened, gruff tongues. ( and maybe he’s a fan of making a grand entrance — achilles always said he a flare for the less-than subtle. )
“ oh, c’mon now. don’t act so aggressive, both o’you. can’t we all jus’ get along? ” said with a hint of bitterness hidden between the words, venom subtle as it strikes. each step is taken with purpose, silent as he peels himself from the shadows, arms wide. lips are ticked up in an over-confident display, concern & caution thrown to the wayside ( even if wrist remains empty and weightless. ) dark eyes cast to the last one to speak. “ cheer up an’ smile, grumpyface. you’ll get wrinkles. ”
➵ @xprofeta·· ➵ rooksassassin ➵ edeneyed
hopeled:
“ Wait, wha–”
and before she can even say anything more, he’s already off and moving and taking her with him. she surpresses the urge to scream– to spare his ears and worried glances from bystanders – and instinct tells her to cling onto the closes thing, which, of course, is him. her hands grip his arm, his shoulders, whatever they can find for the moment, fingers curling around fabric with a grip that showed more strength than one would expect. she is reminded of the many, many times she’s suddenly free-falling from the air and having to hold tight to Mash or something else. most of those instances were not of her own free will and one was to get to a point very quickly. but along with the wind does that familiar jump of adrenaline greet her.
she is thankful for what both Ezio and Altair have shown her, because the moment she is released does her muscle memory kick in, hands already reaching out to grip and hold herself up. she glances down for a moment before back up, meeting a smirk– a taunt. an unspoken question hangs, waiting for her to take the bait and for the briefest of moments, Altair’s voice rings in her mind.
‘ remember that if you attempt to go too fast you will not have the strength to continue up.’
and so that smirk is returned with one of her own. his movements were similar to that of the other two and she wonders if he is like them. a question for later, she decides. Ritsuka offers no words in return before she begins to move up, body shifting with fluidy at a pace that was not too fast nor too slow. speed was not an issue here. remember what Altair said. it takes no time at all for her to reach him and with one final jump is she pulling herself up to the building’s roof, pausing to look back down with a grin.
“ Try to keep up. Don’t want you falling behind now. “ and then she’s off again. it was not a race, but there was no harm in having a little fun with this.
she defies every expectation, going above & beyond even his most vivid conjurations ( a spark in an otherwise dark & dulled existence. ) for a moment shay is left speechless, pausing as eyes beneath cowl widen at her display of strength / knowledge / attitude ( the latter he’s sure achilles would mock him for. ) she is no expert — that much he can see. yet her body moves unhurriedly & confident, steadfast against a challenge most others would balk at. despite her own admittance of knowing how to climb, the way she scales the ledge makes chest swell with something shay cannot place. pride? no. adoration?
well.
“ shouldn’t i be the one sayin’ that to you, lass? ” his words are interspersed with laughter, a wildness to the sound as it carries across the wind. with a grunt, he’s pulling himself up completely, boots hitting the rooftop tiles with barely a sound. there is no pause now, the moment he’s balanced he’s off once again, long & sturdy legs carrying him forward as he dashes next to her, trailing behind as grin spreads / spreads / spreads !
“ ‘sides, you’re s’posed to be my navigator ! ” teased as he finally overtakes her, just a few steps ahead, leaping across to an adjacent roof with a loud bellow of a laugh. ( youth on display as the thrill of the run seeps into his bones. ) he turns to stare at her across the gap, brow raised beneath hood. “ you know this radiale better than i do. aye, i have a place in mind, but you’d have to help me get there. promise, it’ll be worth the trouble. on my honour. ”
kxrei·:
it was just a month ago he arrived, knowing absolutely nothing of the city he now lives in. there is still much he is unaware of yet the time spent has not gone to waste. day after day he learns something new, this experiment happening to be the next thing. he does not know how long the other has been in the city or for how long this may last, but like a shepherd leading his flock the least he could do is extend a helping hand.
‘ fear not, for you are not yet dead. neither the gates of heaven or hell lead to a place like this. ’
for i have witnessed both neither of which are what they say it is
for this city was not under gods watch, but the watch of those that created it. it was a laboratory on a monumental scale and its citizens, whether ignorantly or not, were docile to it. he speaks with a calm tone as to not cause the other unnecessary stress.
‘ this is the city of spirale and while i myself do not know much about it, there is far more to this city than meets the eye. a unknown phenomenon has just swept over it. ’
yet the cause of it was clear as day those who created this city
the more the other man talks, the further his brows crease. he wants to scoff, shrug off the words as if nothing more than dust upon his robes, yet the haze in his mind forces arrogance into schooled acceptance. ( like a child being told to sit still / a snake held in a firm palm. ) the notion of this foreign place sits heavy on his shoulders / tongue, yet lips remain pressed together to stifle the unwarranted doubt that flickers between his teeth ( & ribs, caught between porcelain cages ! )
not heaven. not hell. is this where assassins end up?
“ phenomenon? ” ever the curious creature, his words lift at the edges, the question bounding from lips unknowingly ; a fire not yet quenched by knowledge. “ what kind’o phenomenon? i’ve heard stories ‘bout temples & ruins — hell, i’ve seen things the lord would rightly turn away from. whatever this city is, you have my word to help it. on my honour, ser. ” ( eyes set ablaze as hands cross chest in a prayer, faith on display & laid bare / galatians 6:2 ; bear one another's burdens & so fulfill the law of christ. )
(〃^∇^)ノ Birthday present for @venetori